


Memento Mori

by aidonevs



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Lady D just wants to break her pet in :), Masturbation, Mutual Pining, add as i go along, i promise i wont be cruel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidonevs/pseuds/aidonevs
Summary: Your life spent under the radar gets turned inside-out when Lady Dimitrescu asks you to be her personal handmaiden. What secrets await you, and how far are you both willing to go?
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil) & Reader, Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Original Character(s), Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Original Female Character(s), Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 222





	1. The Beginning

Pale moonlight filters through the barely-open curtains, and you bask in the glow, lying still on the gargantuan bed in your lady’s chambers. She'd left you for a very important phone call, and in her haste, she'd forgotten her hat and gloves, opting to roam the halls in her cream negligee. Not that you minded. Any sliver of skin she dared show you, you coveted.

In the few months you’d been in Lady Dimitrescu’s employ, you had steadily climbed the ranks, moving from scullery maid to housekeeper easily. The work was arduous and draining, especially due to the Lady’s three …precocious daughters, but you had managed to fend for yourself and earn your place. The other maids began to shun you, and surprisingly you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Instead, you had other ways to motivate yourself.

It started small. A lingering caress as you handed a wine glass to her, or else a hard stare you could feel at the small of your back whenever you were turned away from her. Then it was the ‘accidental’ bumping into each other. She would be in the room you were assigned to clean, and you could feel her gaze on you as you went about your work, sending hot flushes to your face and, though you hated to admit it, to the core of your stomach. You had once caught her eying you as you dusted the library shelves, book long forgotten and discarded to her side. These went on for a week, until the day she’d cornered you in the upstairs guest room, eyes blazing.

You remember the door bursting open, startling you half to death. She had waltzed in, ducking through the door in her usual, graceful manner, but your time around her had allowed you to pick up on her mannerisms. She was angry, that much was clear, by the way her brows were furrowed ever so slightly, and her hands clenched into tight fists.

You got up slowly from where you had been arranging the pillows on the chaise, eyeing her warily.

She watched you for a moment, having to look far down. Your head barely reached her hips, and you were always aware of how, given the option and mood, she could crush your windpipe with one hand is she felt so inclined.

‘’Where is Diana? I told her to be in my rooms by noon,’’ she says after what feels like an eternity of silence. You recall Diana as being a shy, fragile-looking girl. Easy to sway and eager, qualities you Lady seemed to enjoy. She had been chosen as Lady Dimitrescu’s personal handmaiden almost a week ago, and in that time, she had become more drawn into her self than ever. You were almost too scared to ask her what she’d seen.

Not knowing where the Lady’s maid was, you answered truthfully.

‘’I’m sorry, my Lady, I don’t know. I can look for her if you wish- ‘’

You were interrupted rather abruptly by a single gloved finger pressed against your lips. Your eyes blew wide open. She had moved too fast, she had been standing across the room from you, how did she…

Her eyes bore into you, turning the air around you hot. Discomfort crept up your spine, and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds.

‘’I did not require you to speak further,’’ she said in an almost whisper, her hand moving away from your face and just graze you collarbone. Your eyes go wider still, and you realise that in her bad mood, her breaking your neck was entirely possible if you stepped out of line.

_If_ you had stepped out of line.

White anger surged through you. Your inquiry was just, there was no reason for her to punish you. Being housekeeper meant you had to know where the other maids were, and it was unfair of her to punish you for doing your job.

She must have sensed your sudden rage, for her own abated for a moment, watching you try to mask your anger.

A smirk, barely there, pulled at her lips.

‘’My my, did I make you upset?’’

You reign in your emotions, keeping your face neutral.

‘’No, my Lady,’’ you say, taking a deep breath. ‘’Do you need me to find Diana?’’

She contemplates for a second, keeping her eyes on you.

‘’No,’’ she replies her eyes closed. ‘’It was her time anyway.’’

You don’t know what she means, but you gather Diana wouldn’t be employed for much longer.

Her eyes flash as she opens her eyes, and you feel your spine straighten involuntarily.

‘’How would you like to fill the position?’’ she asks, faux sweetness curling around her words.

Inwardly, you’re not sure why, but you hesitate. Sure, this would be the highest position you could achieve, but the close proximity to the Lady and her previous temper keeps you from answering straight away.

She senses your hesitation and tenses, and you fear you’ve just signed your death warrant.

She surprises you by taking a deep breath, putting her hand on your shoulder. Her touch is light, but feels like an iron claw keeping you in place.

‘’I will only ask this once. I have no use for fools who do not use their tongues when prompted,’’ she speaks in the same whisper as before. The mention of tongues sends a slurry of images in your head that make your skin flush, but you keep your voice steady as you reply.

‘’I’ll take the job, my Lady,’’ you reply, and in the corner of your eye you see her hand flex slightly on your shoulder. Her eyes shine slightly.

‘’Good,’’ she says after a moment, and a jolt of happiness surges through you as you see her eyebrows unfurrow and her muscles visibly ease. Her hand is still on your shoulder, but its less imposing than before.

‘’Good,’’ she says again, almost to herself. She sighs, then looks at you again.

She gestures towards the door, eyes never leaving you.

‘’Shall we?’’


	2. Crave

Lady Dimitrescu lead you down a familiar hallway to her chambers. You’ve been in her rooms many times, as housekeeper it had often been your duty to tidy up in there alone, although you had hardly ever been invited by the Lady herself. She leads you swiftly, giving you no time to dawdle.

She reaches an ornate door and enters, leaving it open for you. She says no words, but you’re aware of her expectations. You follow wordlessly.

Her dress swishes quietly as she makes her way across the room. Her chambers are large, abnormally so; alone, the towering bed, large couches and enormous vanity would look absurd, but given their owner, hardly any of it seemed out of place. You stand by the door, uncertainty coursing through you; she’d offered no instructions, no explanation as to why she needed a maid so urgently. The Lady seats herself at the vanity, examining her makeup carefully, before meeting your eyes in the mirror. A carefully hidden smirk blips across her face before she shuts it down.

‘’Shut the door, will you?’’ she phrases it as a question but your breath halts, slightly.

Even across the room, you think she notices.

You hastily shut the door, returning to your post as far away from the Lady as possible. She watches you, humming slightly under her breath as you fidget under her scrutiny. She turns, fully facing you now.

‘’How long have you been in my employ?’’ she asks, her voice taking a contemplative tone.

‘’A-about two months, my Lady.’’ It’s one point of conversation you didn’t expect. She knows this, she hired you personally from the orphanage. You try to gauge her mood, but find her face blank and unyielding.

She hums slightly, whether in acknowledgment or dissatisfaction, you’re not sure. You continue to fidget slightly, occasionally tapping your foot against the hardwood floor. She taps her lips, a hint of her red lipstick smudging on her finger. Her eyes are glassy; she’s thinking very deeply about something, and you’re not sure you want to be here when she finishes.

She seems to come to her senses when your tapping becomes louder. She refocuses on you.

‘’Run a bath,’’ she says, and you think she’s tired because _oh_ , she’s pouting now and its absolutely adorable. A flush dusts your face because this is the most vulnerable you have ever seen her, and you doubt it will ever happen again. She looks _lost_ , if that’s even possible, and while it …hurts? To see her like this, you can’t help finding it oddly charming.

‘’Pet?’’ she says and instantly your musings are shattered because she’s looking at you expectantly and you realize you’ve been standing there, staring. The red on your face roars. Her voice, the way she called you ‘pet’ in that dejected tone jolts you into motion. Hurriedly you move to the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door and twisting taps until water rushes into the colossal marble tub. The steam from the water causes the blush on your face to bloom deeper, and here in the privacy of her bathroom the word ‘pet’ seems to echo endlessly.

You thank every god in existence that the winter has frozen most of the water pipes, because it takes ages to fill the tub, and that gives you ample time to compose yourself. You didn’t believe Lady Dimitrescu to be the type to use pet names; she’s always been so… proper. Even her own daughters were called by their first names only. You put it down to her being tired; that’s all it was, just a slip of the tongue. The thought calms you, until the image of Lady Dimitrescu _pouting_ sends you into a fit of silent giggles, almost like a little school girl.

Finally, the tub had been filled, and not wanting the water to cool you open the door to let the Lady know the bath was ready. When your eyes lift your heart almost leaps out of your chest.

She stands bare, save for her lace bra, matching panties and a pale cream garter adorning her thighs. She’s standing with her back towards you, and you thank God for that small mercy because you feel nothing and everything at once. The blush on your face returns in full force, and your hands shake so hard the doorknob in your hand threatens to break. Your knees jerk, once, and you feel like you’re just about to float into heaven. She’s standing there and _god_ she’s so perfect, how could anyone live without having seen her like this just once…

She turns her head as she hears you almost break the doorknob. Her eyes retain that glassy, tired expression, but a small upward tilt to her now bare lips tells you she knows exactly what this has done to you, what _she_ has done to you.

‘’You didn’t come back out, I had to undress myself,’’ she chides, but she doesn’t upset at all, more like she’s enjoying your reactions.

‘’Well?’’ a lone eyebrow quirks upwards as she swivels to face you, a hand on her hip. You have full view of her now, and it’s doing nothing to calm you at all.

She looks at you expectantly, and you realise, _oh_ , your supposed to completely undress her, and your mind all but implodes.

You step forward, slightly tripping, towards her. Your hands are moving, but you can’t really compute because she’s _right there_ , in all her glory, and it takes everything in you to keep your hands off her skin. The urge to touch is so strong, you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to bring yourself together with the pain.

You start with her panties because that is as high as you can reach without the stepladder in the corner of the room. Your eyes are trained downwards, even as you feel her shake with a chuckle. You try your best to keep your hands only on the lace of her panties, but it can’t be helped that your fingers brush on the smooth skin of her abdomen. Your mind has turned to mush, you’re barely aware of what you’re doing at this point as you slide the lace down, exposing more of her. You want to look, want to see what she looks like down _there_ so bad, but your determination and constant underlying fear of the repercussions keep your eyes away. Her hands hover, inches away from you, until your finished, and she steps out of the panty. Keeping your eyes averted, you scurry to grab the stepladder, utterly unsurprised to find your hands shaking. You bring the stepladder behind her and climb, stopping just short of her full height.

The latch on her bra comes off under your trembling fingers, and you can’t help but admire the toned muscles and small silver rivulets of stretch marks adorning her back. Carefully, you move the straps over her arms, acutely aware of how close you are to her naked form. She hasn’t moved an inch, keeping her head straight even as your hot breath dusts her neck. You’re somewhat disappointed that you haven’t affected her like she has you, until you see, just barely, the half moon indents on her palms. She must’ve clenched her hands into tight fists when your head had been close to her core. A shiver of pride at eliciting such a response from her courses through you, and its that little piece of pride that allows you to dare.

Slowly, as if touching a rabid beast, you brush your fingers lightly over her right shoulder. The touch is barely a graze, but it’s there, and you know she felt it because she’s all but stopped breathing. You weren’t sure whether to keep going, but seeing as you weren’t dead yet, you decided to try your luck. Like in a trance, your fingers trail down her arm, inching their way to her elbow, keeping your other hand lightly on her left shoulder.

You hear small gasp escape her lips, and she turns her head until your faces are just centimetres apart. You could do it, close the distance, press your lips against hers, they look so inviting and plush, a deep nude under all that rouge. Your face shifts infinitely closer, your eyes trained solely on her lips, _god those lips_ …

‘’Are you finished?’’ Her smooth voice is like a bucket of cold water, and instantly you jerk away from her. Shame and cold, hard _thrill_ race through you, and you all but leap from stepladder in your haste. She keeps her body faced away from you, but turns her head until she’s staring down at you, her bright yellow eyes glimmering, holding you in place. She’s trembling faintly, you can see that, but her expression betrays no hint that what you have done has rattled her. Despite the fear steadily building, you maintain eye contact.

‘’Yes, my Lady,’’ you say softly, to keep the terror at bay and away from her prying gaze. All you can hear is your own heartbeat, and you’re sure she can hear it too. She gives you a quick once over, eyebrow raised, making you feel every bit of her roving.

‘’…You may leave,’’ she whispers, tone betraying nothing of what she feels. Cold rejection settles in your bones, the disappointment weaving through your addled brain.

‘’O-of course, my Lady,’’ the sadness leaks into your voice, and you know she’s heard it because, yes, your feelings are mirrored exactly in her eyes. Your eyes widen in surprise and a deep, utter shame spills through you. _You have caused her pain_.

After a moment that feels like eternity, she turns her back on you and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door with such finality you question whether the past ten minutes were even real. Regaining your motor skills takes you a minute, and as the sound of water sloshing becomes louder, you hasten to clean up Lady Dimitrescu’s clothes.

The sounds of water continue as you exit the room, and shutting the door, you are certain she can still hear your erratic heartbeat as you make your way to the servants’ chambers.


	3. Indulgence

Lady Dimitrescu absentmindedly shook water droplets out of her hair as she relived the past 10 minutes again.

Never had she had a maid as bold as her new personal handmaiden. Most of her staff actively avoided her, fear in their eyes. Most of the time she couldn’t sit in peace, the harsh thumping of frightened heartbeats chipping away at her concentration. Not this one, Lady Dimitrescu mused, idly swirling the cooling bathwater. Even if she had left the room in a flurry of maddeningly loud heart palpitations. No, those were caused by something else. The Lady smirked. It had felt… _good_ , especially after the day she had. And it was only noon. Lady Dimitrescu groaned inwardly.

Houses Beneviento and Moreau had raised fair points on her castle’s lack of proper security measures, she had to admit. Reports of pest-like human infiltrations ought to have put the Lady on guard; her winery and associated businesses only remained in function as long as the humans of the neighbouring village remained crushed under her terrifying thumb. Such uprisings would put her dealings under jeopardy, and everything she’d worked hard on for the past 100 years would come crashing down. Yes, these were real fears, the tower she’d hand-built being torn by insignificant humans.

And yet all that melted away when she saw her new handmaiden. The woman, a child really, had an air of great unknowing wisdom, that was certain. She watched, truly _watched_ , and waited before she spoke, like a hunter waiting for its prey to make the wrong move, a skill the Lady had long since believed humans did not possess. Lady Dimitrescu dealt in control, and it impressed her to see someone so small and unimportant wield it so well, like an extension of herself.

Of course, all this could just be the behaviour of a scared, cautious little brat, and Lady Dimitrescu would have believed it too, if not for the little stunt the girl had pulled today.

Caution had been thrown to the wind. She had dared, and it had been a long time since the Lady had met anyone like that in a _long_ time.

Her hands moved on her own. She hadn’t planned on doing this, not now after such a long day. But the pent up feeling after years of not being touched allowed her to push her way through any lingering doubts. Slowly, Lady Dimitrescu brought right her hand to her collarbone, stroking softly, just like her maiden had done on her arm. Her left hand inched down her abdomen, fingers quickly reaching their destination, where the water couldn’t mask how utterly wet she was. The Lady’s face reddened slightly, but she pushed onwards, ignoring the stabbing pricks of embarrassment.

Slowly, like trying not to startle a wild animal, she pushed two fingers in, testing her body. She startled slightly as a wave of pure bliss rushed through her; she had to bite her lip just to keep herself from moaning out loud. Her right hand had moved to her chest, idly brushing her taut nipples. Her fingers reached further into her, and she bucked, breathing hard. She took a deep breath, forcing her body to calm; it had been _so long_ , she didn’t want this to end quickly.

Legs spread, she brought her fingers out, making sure they touched every part of her walls, causing her breath to hitch. She took her fingers out of the water and brought them to her lips, brushing once, twice, her right hand still playing with a nipple. She shuddered as she tasted herself, and in her mind her maiden was licking at her fingers, eating every bit of the morsel she was offered. The thought alone brought the Lady almost to the edge; she let it linger, the thought of the girl on her knees, begging. The Lady’s eyes flashed. The flecks of gold in her eyes seemed to grow brighter, like lamps in the dark.

_So._ The Lady’s tongue rasped against her index finger, her gaze turning contemplative. _The girl._ It was all there, the signs that she was willing. Lady Dimitrescu just had to reach out and take.

Her left hand returned to its original location, and she resumed, pumping her fingers in and out with abandon. She didn’t restrain her moans this time; Hell, she wanted the girl to hear, to know what she had done to her mistress. _This is her fault,_ the Lady thought, even as her mind turned foggy with the impending orgasm. _She should take responsibility._

Images of what the girl could do to make up for her impertinence surfaced, and it was all the Lady could do to restrain herself, let her mind absorb each of the possibilities.

The girl, naked, tied up in silk. On the bed, ass up like an offering to the gods. On top of the Lady, rocking her hips on three pearlescent fingers. On her knees, face buried in her Mistress’s cunt, leashed and collared like the animal she was. Like a pet.

That was all it took. Once, twice, her massive body jerked, upending bathwater onto the floor. Her eyes rolled into her head as waves upon waves of sheer bliss erupted through her. Her right hand clasped the rim of the tub so hard it cracked under her fingers. Her thighs tensed painfully as she rode her high, fingers still moving, albeit at a slower pace. It took her five minutes for her to regain body function, and another five for her breathing to even out. By then there was hardly any water in the tub, and Lady Dimitrescu lay on the cold marble, contemplating her next step.

It was clear what she wanted, now that the haze of the post-orgasm glow had subsided. The Lady’s eyes swivelled as her mind worked, coming to rest on the floor-length mirror adorning the left wall. She looked mad, her hair matted and wet on one side, dry and wild on the other. Her pupils were blown out, mouth parted and hand still gripping the edge of the tub that was cracked. A single, thin stream of black blood trailed down her finger, although there was no pain accompanying it. She lifted the hand to her face, watching the small tear in her skin regenerate instantly. Using the remains of the water in the tub, she washed the blood away, never tearing her gaze from the now disappeared wound.

If she took another pet, she’d have to be careful this time; the fragility of humans always irritated her. Her jaw tensed. There was a reason it had been so long; pets, and the world of pleasure they provided, had to be cared for, treated like fine china. Normally this chaffed at Lady Dimitrescu, who liked to play with her toys without restrictions; she never truly cared about them, just the fun of having a personal plaything to make the days easier. This new maiden, however, did not fit the bill at all. Lady Dimitrescu bit her lip absentmindedly. She did not want to break this one, and that surprised her most of all. She wanted this one to last; wanted to see how far she could go, how much she was willing to do. This wasn’t about satiating lust, at least not the main part; the Lady wanted to see the control the girl had wash away, strip her bare and make her completely and irrevocably _hers._

And that, she found, made all the difference in the world.


End file.
